


Count Your Losses

by MissDrarryDawn



Series: What It Means To Care [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, soulmate!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 05:54:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20810162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDrarryDawn/pseuds/MissDrarryDawn
Summary: It started so simple. It was just shagging. Then it wasn't. Then it was so much more.//Completed//Word count: 7.8k





	Count Your Losses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [miniminis_ri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miniminis_ri/gifts).

> your prompt gave me an idea, and well, this mini series is the lovechild. speaking of prompts, ceci's prompt might take a bit longer, because that one also gave me quite an idea so yeah!
> 
> i hope you enjoy this though!  
also i apologize in advance :3 *sweats* hehehe...

"I care about you, dammit, Malfoy. I _care_, okay?"

Draco snarled at the catch in Potter's voice when he spoke the words. White hot anger flooded him, again, a new wave:

"I don't need your _pity_." 

"Good, because I don't _pity_ you for a _second_." Potter replied, crossing his arms over his chest. Draco drew himself up taller:

"I don't need your _lies_ then Potter."

A crestfallen look flittered across Potter's green eyes, the boy losing his composure for a second.

"What do I gain out of lying? I've been letting you fuck me through the mattress for over a _month_ Malfoy. What the fuck do I get out of lying to you _now_?" He asked, voice falling quieter, instead of louder, like Draco had wanted. _Get mad dammit, stop looking so fucking wounded!_

"I don't know Potter! Obviously _something_, since you're so brazenly lying to my face." The blonde spat.

"I fucking care about you _Draco_." All tension left him, all of his defensiveness sagging out of him. He dropped his arms from his chest, baring himself to Draco. Just like _that_. So infuriatingly simple and wanton.

Draco couldn't stand it.

"I don't want to lose you." He continued, honest as ever. His green eyes were blazing behind his glasses, round and soft, swirling with genuine affection.

Draco gasped as he felt his arm burn. He stood frozen for a few moments, a scream threatening to rip out of his throat. _No_. _Not like this._ A bitter stab of anger flooded the blonde then, everything hateful in him crawling up his throat, and before he could realize what he was saying, his face twisted into another ugly, venomous jeer:

"I was _never _ yours to lose, and I _never_ will be."

Draco spun on his heel and walked away, ignoring the choked sob from the boy behind him. 

~

It had started so easy.

Well, if one could call shagging your former arch-nemesis easy.

To his surprise, Harry could call it fairly easy. 

Though, to be fair, he didn't have the most reliable difficulty meter when it came to the things in his life. No matter.

Letting Malfoy shove his cock up Harry's arse had been a courtesy granted without second thought. It was so easy to give himself over to Malfoy, and Malfoy had handled it with amazing grace. He never pushed for more than what they had already arranged, and anything he wanted to try he talked to Harry about at length first. Harry had been so completely debaunched and honestly surprised to find how much care Malfoy took with his lovers, but was really pleased for it none the less. For one, it made their times together more enjoyable, but the more important factor in Harry's mind was the knowledge that Malfoy was indeed _more_, _so much more,_ than a snobby prat. If he was able to be gentle with Harry while fucking him, then he was able to be gentle in other manners too, which consequently meant he had more to him, and honestly, just that in of itself pleased Harry to no end. He'd felt proud even. 

Their weekly shacking up was all well and good, if not for one small, irksome issue. 

Harry had started to genuinely care about Malfoy.

How his day had been, his classes, whether his mother was alright, had the students been giving him shit about the Mark, what his plans for the future were etc. 

Occasionally, after still coming down from their orgasms, Harry would mutter those types of questions into the crook of Malfoy's neck, while he mouthed along the pale skin. The first night Harry had asked something that didn't pertain to sex, he had expected to get hexed or get the silent treatment, but instead, Malfoy replied earnestly and in depth, not shying away from anything Harry had asked. The raven had _glowed_ at seeing that, and had in turn, responded to any questions Malfoy asked. He'd asked about three weeks deep into their arrangement, and was happy to find Malfoy was comfortable enough to chat. They had a few conversations about the war too, but Harry respected Malfoy's privacy, never prying for more than the other was willing to give, and Malfoy had extended the same courtesy back. 

And then, one morning, Harry woke up with a sick twist to his gut. He had a dream. Not a nightmare. A dream.

A dream about Draco. Malfoy. Whatever.

They were on a date, having a good time. Harry couldn't hear anything they were saying, but both were all smiles and cheery eyes, so he supposed it was something fun. 

Upon waking, his gut gave a sick twist, realizing he _wanted_ that between them, but knowing that their arrangement didn't lend itself to such accommodations. They just fucked, Malfoy had been perfectly clear about that, he wanted _nothing_ more, and Harry understood. He understood how much danger it would put Malfoy in if there ever was ever anything more. And he'd done his best to keep himself distanced, because he knew himself enough to know that it could never be _just_ fucking for him, and he was right, because in the end, it hadn't been. 

Still, Harry didn't break it off. He enjoyed it too much, wanted it too badly, he couldn't stop. It was addicting and it meant so much more now. It wasn't fair towards Malfoy or himself, Harry knew, but he didn't have the strength to wretch it apart.

He kept his mouth shut about his sentiments of course, until...

Well, until that day.

Goldstein had stalked up to Malfoy when the blonde wasn't paying attention and pitched an entire basin worth of Boubotuber puss over his head he'd likely stolen from the Potions cabinet. Disgusting as it was, Boubotuber puss was extremely useful in Potions, so the school had it stored in large quantities. Malfoy had stilled with a soft gasp, too stunned to move while Goldstein snickered. 

And then whipped out a camera.

Harry had Petrificus Totalus-ed him faster than he could realize what had happened. In the middle of the Great fucking Hall. Even the teachers seemed too surprised to react, though McGonagall was already on her feet, her hard glare on Anthony. Before this could escalate, Harry thought of how to avert the crisis while there was still time.

The arsehole had frozen up, camera clutched in his hands still, and fallen to the floor stiffly. 

Everyone was staring, including Malfoy.

Harry knew he fucked up, and that he had to rectify the situation _quickly_.

He walked over to Goldstein on the floor, affecting calm best he could, and knelt down, prying the camera out of his frozen fingers. He then straightened and glanced around, clearing his throat. Everyone was waiting for an explanation. Harry started, voice strong and unwavering as he spoke, though he was lying through his teeth:

"What? This is _my_ camera. I lend it to Anthony when he asked to borrow it on the condition he never clog it up with unnecessary pictures."

No one reacted yet.

"I'm sure all of you would agree with me," His voice dropped low, though it was clear, an open warning for anyone to _dare_ defy him. "when I say that pictures of Malfoy covered in Boubotuber puss are quite _unnecessary._" He gave the Hall a hard glare, before tucking the camera into his robes neatly. He hoped they were sufficiently warned to keep their hands of Malfoy, at the very least. Harry had to find _something_ to gain out of this situation, and he would, even if he had to milk it. 

"Finite Incantatem." He aimed his wand at Goldstein, and outstretched his arm to the boy on the floor. Anthony gulped and accepted it and Harry had yanked him up roughly, bringing him in close to be able to whisper into his ear, voice just as menacing as it had been a moment prior:

"Lay your dirty paws on him _ever again_, and I'll show you just how _useful _it is to be Harry fucking Potter. Don't you ever forget it, Goldstein. Now _scamper_ off, before I change my mind." 

Anthony had the common sense to look scared at the murder in Harry's eyes, and buggered away quickly, paling. 

After he was out of the Hall, eyes were still glued to Harry and Malfoy. Harry imitated a sneer:

"Go take a shower Malfoy, you look more hideous than usual. If that were possible." 

He hoped his lie was enough to placate the students, and halt the rumor mill before it started churning. He couldn't have rumors about Malfoy spreading around, anything about being weak or in need of Harry's protection, no, that would just make it all worse, Harry knew. 

His faked aloofness had seemed to convince everyone Harry hadn't done what he did to try and help Malfoy, which was good. 

No one started any funny business.

If anyone _did_ ask, Harry would shrug and explain that his camera was worthier than being treated to photos of Malfoy covered in puss. 

That night though, when they met up in an old classroom where they had transfigured a desk into a bed, Malfoy had pretty much _attacked_ Harry, ravishing him madly, as if he'd _die_ unless he fucked Harry's brains out then and there. Between the bruising kisses and bites, between the hard thrusts, he'd admitted, perhaps not even realizing he did, how hot Harry looked standing up to Anthony the way he did, that even the insult Harry had managed to add in had worked to make him hard. He was filled with such urgency, Harry idly wondered if he'd lost his mind with what little blood had been left in his thoroughly strung out brain for a few seconds. When Harry asked what had him in such a rush after the fact, pondering if there was more to it than what he'd incoherently babbled, he pressed his lips together, tracing circles in Harry's hip with his long fingers.

"I know it wasn't about the fucking camera." He finally spoke, voice strained.

_Obviously you did, _Harry thought, amused, _you just fucked me through because you knew._

"Of course it wasn't, Malfoy." Harry conceded, not commenting anything more. If he said more he risked revealing that he'd truly come to _care_, and he couldn't have that. Not yet.

"Why?" The blonde had asked, gray eyes boring into Harry's green ones.

There it was. _Why. _Harry had two options then. He could lie and continue this convoluted mess until they graduated and parted ways, or, he could be honest about his feelings and see where it lead. He knew the risk. He knew what he would lose. He knew Malfoy didn't feel the same way. He also knew that Malfoy deserved better than being lied to, even if Harry ended up scorched in the end, even if he didn't know what he would do when the truth cost him this. And it _would_ cost him. Yet, despite that, he cared too much to lie to Draco:

"I could lie to you or tell you the truth." Harry started, swallowing around a lump in his throat. "You deserve better than being lied to, especially after all the lies you've been told thus far. So, I'm going to be honest, although I know I'll crash and burn for it."

"What are you talking about Potter?" Malfoy sounded concerned, for a moment, though Harry convinced himself he'd imagined the way his voice softened just barely.

"I care about you." Harry whispered, his words pulled so taut he almost couldn't speak them. 

Malfoy's face closed, his body went stiff, eyes growing cold. He got out of bed and put his clothes on, shoulders tight.

"I don't." He simply said, and Harry got up too, dressing himself.

"I know." The raven muttered. He'd expected as much, but it didn't hurt any less hearing it.

"I don't fucking care Potter. About you. We were just fucking." Malfoy rounded on him, suddenly seeming so angry, for no goddamn reason.

"I know." Harry spoke again, sticking his glasses on his nose, voice threatening to break. 

"I don't give a single shit about this, or your feelings, or your idiocy. Your stupid Gryffindorness can fuck right off. We. Were. Just. Fucking." 

Harry felt the words cut through him, he felt them resonate deep and burn like molten lava, he felt the pain. It rose up like a wave and he looked away from Draco, unwilling to face it.

"I know." He repeated, his voice thick.

"No you fucking _don't_ know! You know _nothing_." Draco hissed, glaring a hole through Harry's skull.

"Well what the fuck do you want me to say?" Harry asked, throwing his arms up. He didn't know what the hell Draco wanted from him: "I care about you, dammit, Malfoy. I _care_, okay?" 

~

The first time it happened was the night Draco had caught Harry snooping around Hogwarts. He had been more than happy to sneer at him and hiss and everything he'd been doing for seven years. Harry, however, was tired, his heart heavy with yet another nightmare that had forced him out of bed again. He just wanted Malfoy to shut up, to leave him alone, but of course, Malfoy being Malfoy, had kept prodding and throwing petty digs. Harry sighed and let him have his fill, not even scoffing once in response. He was just so fucking _exhausted_, and couldn't be bothered about anything Draco was saying. That was, until, Draco had crossed just about a few hundred limits in a single fucking sentence.

"Staying quiet are you Potter? What, are you trying to be the better person, be the _hero _again? Lord knows why you try anymore, all your heroism _ever _did was kill your parents, your godfather and who knows how many more poor souls who made the mistake of believing in you."

Now, _that_, that had gotten Harry's attention. His eyes snapped open wide and he stared at Draco for a few long seconds, chest heaving. The anger didn't come immediately, no, first came the hurt. A wave of pain and burning ache. Harry hated it as soon as he'd felt it tearing through him. He hated that Malfoy was right. Hated that he let Malfoy affect him still. Hated that he teared up. Hated how small he felt, how powerless. All of that hatred bubbled and boiled until it keeled over into anger. _Anger._

Malfoy seemed to realize what he had said just a split second too late, when he'd noticed the sheen of tears glazing over Harry's eyes, and his own face changed too. From a snarl, to a look of surprised horror, finally settling on a look of bitter regret. 

"How _fucking_ dare you?" Harry seethed after a moment. "How fucking _could_ you?" He kept gritting, taking a dangerous step towards the blonde, who looked completely terrified with himself. A thousand angry, poisonous words were at the tip of his tongue, yet he couldn't find the coherency to speak them. His mind was buzzing with the anger, eyes flooding with the angry tears that he refused let spill while he advanced on Malfoy who was backing up into a wall steadily, his throat working but no words leaving his lips. 

"Potter I-" He tried to say something, but Harry placed a hand on his chest and pushed him into the wall roughly. He grabbed Malfoy's left forearm and tore his sleeve up, baring the Mark, his fingers digging into the pale skin.

"How fucking dare you say _anything_ when you bear _this_? Do you have any idea how many people _died_ because of this? Dumbledore, Snape, countless others." Harry's voice was low, eyes flaring, hardly able to think through the haze of fury.

Malfoy stared at him wide-eyes, gray eyes swimming with regret and shame, not daring to move.

"I--I didn't--" The blonde stuttered, looking down at his feet.

"I _know_ you didn't take it willingly. I _know_ you're not a _monster._ It doesn't change what it represents though, and it doesn't change that so many people died over it." Harry hissed, releasing Malfoy's arm, pulling his sleeve down, a piercing glare still clear in his eyes. "How could you?" He asked again, his coherency trickling back slowly, as he realized he'd started crying. Malfoy didn't look far from it either though.

"I didn't--" He cut himself off, lost for words.

Harry shook his head, wiping his eyes and cheeks. A pained scoff rolled over his tongue:

"Doesn't matter. I shouldn't have hoped you'd be better to me this year. Or ever." 

And despite how hurt he felt, he still managed to feel bad for trenching up a bleeding wound out of Draco. Harry noticed his shoulders were trembling gently.

"I'm sorry Malfoy. For bringing up the Mark. I know better of you." He muttered, unable to believe he was apologizing to Malfoy for any reason at all, but it was a deserved apology. He turned to leave, feeling so goddamn tired of everything. For a few steps he had dared hope Malfot would just let him walk away. 

"Potter, wait!" He called out, and Harry turned, softly cursing, finding his look of startle just the tiniest bit amusing.

"What?" The raven asked, sighing heavily. He didn't have the strength to deal with this.

"I'm sorry. I went too far. I'm really sorry.." His voice was thick, honest. Harry turned to face him again. "You..you didn't deserve that from me, after everything.." He carried on, though it was obvious it cost him.

"Forget about it Malfoy. If you can manage, leave me alone. We all did what we had to in the war, no one is proud of their actions. Just..leave me alone.._please_.." Harry's plea was earnest. All he wanted was some peace and quiet. All he wanted was to live out his second shot at life as smoothly as he could. He observed Malfoy for a moment longer, before turning on his heel again, but slim fingers locking around his wrist tugged him backwards, spinning him around and pressing him into a wall, and then Malfoy was _kissing _him.

Fucking _kissing_ him. 

Harry was frozen against the taller boy, blinking a few times, half-panicking half-confused and then something else too, but Malfoy's lips didn't release. He pushed harder even, and Harry began to give in. He had no idea where this had come from, why it was happening or what it meant at all, but the heat of it was undeniable, and Harry had been cold for so long, he gave in and pushed back just as ferociously. His eyes closed as Malfoy's tongue slipped past his lips and claimed Harry's mouth, blood rushing south fairly quickly after he began actively participating. A roll of Malfoy's hips had Harry groaning into the other's mouth, hands fisting in the blonde hair, tugging slowly, earning a drawn out keel from the snobby prat. 

They frotted against each other that night, both coming into their pants like thirteen year olds, and then they both ran after sharing a thoroughly panicked expression, running in different directions, not even sure where they were going. 

What the fuck had they just done?

~

After that night, they avoided each other like the plague, too scared to breach the topic. What the hell would they say? Harry was downright terrified. That he responded so easily. That he hadn't pushed Malfoy away. Despite being into blokes, Harry had never once experienced any kind of attraction towards Malfoy in particular. Yet he rutted against him eager as ever, as if it was the most natural thing ever for the him. He didn't know if it meant there was something more to himself than he'd realized before, or if it had just been a spur of the moment reaction to, well, being eighteen, gay, and kissed by an incredibly attractive wizard. Ever since the night, such compliments began attaching themselves, quite rudely if you asked Harry, to Malfoy's name, and they were making things so much more difficult than they ought to be. He knew he needed to confront Malfoy, or he'd drive himself insane, he just didn't know how to do it without having his bollocks hexed off. 

In the end, Harry decided the best strategy was the one he'd always been employing, jumping straight into the line of the fire. 

So he waited after class one day, stopping Malfoy from leaving by closing and locking the door, as well as silencing it, and cleared his throat to start speaking:

"What the fuck have we done Malfoy?" He asked, letting all the panic show. Malfoy was silent, pale, biting his lip so hard he would surely draw blood.

"I have no fucking clue Potter." He finally spoke, voice soft and subdued, before he slumped into the nearest chair. Harry didn't know how to proceed past this point, didn't know what else to say.

"Why did you kiss me?" He finally settled on asking. If possible, Malfoy tensed up even more. Harry cringed at how tightly he was wound.

"I don't know. I don't fucking know." He answered, voice rising with a panicked tilt. "I have no idea what came over me, or you, the both of us, and I'm not particularly inclined to find out either. Will you please let me out?" By the end, every word was dripping with uncertainty and fear.

"Malfoy we need to talk about this--" Harry started, running a hand through his hair.

"We don't. We can just pretend nothing ever happened." Malfoy cut him off, shaking his head. He was starting to bounce his leg.

"We _can_'_t._" Harry affirmed. "There's a reason what happened happened. We need to figure out what it is." 

"Why?" Malfoy's eyes flicked up to meet Harry's.

"You need to know the cause of the problem to get rid of it, Malfoy." The Gryffindor deadpanned, arching a brow, trying to remain calm as he could.

Malfoy's lips pressed into a thin line, and he swallowed a few times.

"Right. What do you suppose we do?" He asked, rasping. 

Harry looked away, clearing his throat again, a flush rising on his cheeks.

"Kiss me again. To check if it was just a weird hormonal moment or if its something else." He explained what he reasoned.

Malfoy looked at him incredulously for a few moments, before standing up.

"Like an experiment?" He asked. Harry nodded, wringing his fingers together in front of him. 

Malfoy came closer, and Harry braced himself.

When he kissed him this time, he was tentative and scared, barely pressing his lips over Harry's, bordering on shy. 

Despite that, Harry felt the same thrill shoot down his spine as that night, the same spark of heat, his horror steadily mounting.

His mouth seemed to move on its own as he just as lightly replied to the kiss before pulling away and opening his eyes to stare dumbly at Malfoy. Malfoy was staring right back, looking just as lost as Harry felt.

"S-So?" The blonde asked, voice gruff. Harry bit his lip and looked away. He didn't know what to say really.

"I don't know. Did you feel anything?" He asked instead, buying himself some more time to figure out why the fuck his stomach flipped the way it did.

"I--yeah--" Malfoy admitted, flushing red to the tips of his ears, staring down at his shoes.

"R-right, yeah, me too." Harry confirmed, his throat closing. What the bloody fuck was going on?

Malfoy leaned in again, kissing Harry a second time, and Harry responded again, though his brows furrowed when their lips parted. Half at Malfoy, half at himself. His skin pulsed.

"I was making sure." Malfoy said, drawing in a breath through his teeth. Harry nodded, though it was an obvious lie. They stood and stared at each other for a moment.

The third time they kissed, they didn't have an excuse. 

By then, they were too otherwise occupied to care.

~

And so, it became a regular thing. They met up once in a while at first, however their meetings grew more constant with time. They didn't really talk much ever, and the first time they had actually shagged was some two weeks into whatever the fuck it was they had going on. Malfoy had been very shy and subdued that night and when Harry had teased him with a blowjob, not letting him come until he'd told him what was wrong and why the hell he was acting weird, Harry blinked once and said 'yes'. That was all it took for Harry to let Malfoy fuck him. Actually fuck him. He didn't really have doubts or reservations, didn't really care as much as he thought he would when it came to who he lost his virginity to. It didn't bother him it was Malfoy. Malfoy, on the other hand, had nearly lost his nerve when Harry informed him he was still a virgin. Harry had given him incentive enough by spreading his legs further and biting into the sensitive spot on his neck. And Malfoy had been incredibly patient and careful too, which turned Harry on to within an inch of his life.

When Malfoy had finally entered him, Harry was sure his brain short-circuited. Everything felt so _good_, and he canted his hips asking for _more_, which Malfoy gave without complaint, his own face falling apart as he continued to fuck Harry. Then Malfoy had hit something in Harry that made stars dance across the raven's vision, and he really didn't know why he never tried this before. It wasn't long after that Harry was coming with a loud, guttural whimper, and Malfoy followed him right over the edge, burying himself deep into Harry when he spilled his load, groaning in bliss. 

After the first time, they fucked more often, which lead to them needing to transfigure a desk into a bed. There were only so many times Harry's back could bend over a table before it started to complain after all. And soon after that, they started talking too. Harry would ask something unimportant, inconsequential and Malfoy would answer while lazily playing with Harry's hair. Then Malfoy would ask something just as benign, and Harry would answer, mewling in soft encouragement at the fingers carding through his hair. Then Malfoy would most likely complain about the raven locks, but wouldn't pull his hand away, and Harry would snort softly, taking the halfhearted insults in stride, with a hint of amusement.

And slowly, insidiously, Harry started to _care._

~

It was only after Draco had left their classroom that Harry had registered it. The gentle burn that spread over his arm a few moments ago. He immediately pulled his sleeve up, staring at his arm with wide eyes. _Shit. No. Fuck_. He gaped like a fish at the bare spot of flesh where the sentence should have been. 

When he was eleven, still living with the Dursleys, Harry didn't understand the faint marks on his arm, that slowly grew to be more and more prominent as he grow older, finally turning completely black when he was sixteen, the words finally fully visible. They spelled out a sentence:

_I was never yours to lose, and I never will be._

Harry had inquired Hermione and Ron about it, asking what the bloody hell it all meant, was it normal and such, and they explained, quite messily, but well enough, that every witch and wizard is born with a sort of tattoo of something their soulmate would say to them some day. Just a random sentence they'd say, and after they say it, the words would fade away with a bit of a burn. They explained how strong a soulmate bond is, and that nothing can really replace it.

Harry scoffed at them at first, but then Hermione showed him her sentence:

_One person can't feel all that at once, they'd explode._

Then, Ron rolled up his sleeve too:

_Just because you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have._

Harry had laughed for a solid fifteen minutes about this, choking up at the idea of Ron's soulmate saying that. Ron had smacked him and grumpily muttered about what kind of mess he would have had to create with his soulmate to be told the words from his arm. Harry shrugged at the time, and put it out of his mind, it hadn't seemed important. He wasn't sure he'd even live long enough to find out. To meet his soulmate.

Harry had seen Draco's sentence many times, just like Draco had seen his.

_I don't want to lose you_. Was tattooed into Draco's skin. 

Harry never really asked much, because he didn't understand a lot about soulmates, only knowing about them and the strong bond they share from what his friends told him. Draco had asked about Harry's sentence a few times though, and Harry always shrugged and said he wasn't really sure about it. Draco had confessed once that he imagined the words on his skin would be whispered to him reverently, lovingly, while he and his soulmate shared an important moment. He was embarrassed to have admitted that, of course, but Harry smiled and agreed with the sentiment, teasing him only minimally about going soft. 

Now, Harry sat on the bed, staring at his empty skin.

The sentence was gone. 

The same sentence that Draco left behind before he'd left.

_Of course._

Harry sobbed dryly. Of fucking course it's him. A dead laugh wilted out of his lungs.

He just couldn't catch a break could he?

Draco was his soulmate. 

Draco who didn't give a rat's arse about Harry.

Draco who snarled viciously at Harry.

_Malfoy._

Malfoy was his soulmate.

Harry sat there for so long he lost track of time, staring at the smooth skin of his forearm, the gears of his mind drawing to a complete halt.

~

As soon as Draco was out of their classroom, he tugged his sleeve up and felt as if he'd been doused in ice cold water. The sentence was gone. Sizzled away.

_I don't want to lose you._

Harry had told him that, not twenty minutes ago, and now the words were gone. Draco wanted to scream, and possibly choke the annoying bastard back in the classroom. He tugged his sleeve down and scowled, not halting his too-fast pace for a moment. He headed down to Slytherin, happy that the rumors about bringing the eighth years into one house were _false_. McGonagall had left the four houses as they were, aware of how _badly_ shoving them all in with each other would fare for some. 

He shoved past the portrait, stomping in in a flurry that had Pansy on her feet at once, following him to his room, aware that the dark scowl on his face promised nothing good. She was silent for a few beats after they'd closed the door behind them, as she settled next to him.

"What happened?" She finally asked, quiet. Pansy could be grating at the best of times, but even she knew how to tell the mood would not benefit from it.

"I found my soulmate." Draco deadpanned, no preface. He rolled his sleeve up to show her his clean arm.

"Oh, oh, well, that's usually good, but your face tells me there is nothing good about this." She looped her fingers through her black hair, twisting the strands. Draco nodded grimly.

"It's Potter Pans." He muttered, a defeated, tired sigh deflating him. She sucked in a breath.

"Lord help me." The girl swore softly. He kept talking before she could open her mouth again:

"There's more." 

He saw her eyebrows arch upwards, eyes twisting with worry.

"Why is there more Draco?" She asked, gripping his arm and he sighed:

"You know how I've been going on 'walks' at night more often lately?" 

She nodded. He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up, and braced himself as he forced the words out:

"What I've actually been doing is shagging Potter."

An odd, chirping kind of squeak grapped out of her throat, her fingers on his arm tightening:

"You WHAT?!" Pansy's voice was shrill as a stone settled in her stomach. A heavy fucking stone too.

Draco grit his teeth and explained how it started and what happened tonight, and she listened to him, occasionally gasping as if scandalized. When the riveting tale was done, Pansy was drawn into thought.

"Technically, we could just pretend this never happened, couldn't we?" She said, pursing her lips.

"_Technically, _yes." Draco admitted, falling back onto his bed.

"But that's not what you want to do is it?" She laid down next to him, staring up at the green curtains falling around them.

"I don't know." Draco muttered, holding his forearm above his head, staring at the bare skin with a bit of shock still.

"He said he cares about you. Potter isn't really one to lie about his feelings is he?" She assessed next.

Draco snorted. God, that boy couldn't lie about his feelings and thoughts if he'd tried. Perhaps Draco just spent so long thinking about him and staring at him that he could tell his lies from his truths blind, half deaf and otherwise incapacitated. It had only now occurred to him how disturbing that was.

"No, he isn't." He answered idly, remembering her question.

"Do you care about him?" She asked outright, and Draco bit his lip. He had quite literally flipped his shit on Harry when Harry had told him this. And Harry looked as though he'd been expecting it. He was resigned to such a reaction.

_'So, I'm going to be honest, although I know I'll crash and burn for it.'_

He'd known the entire time what that honesty would cost him, and went ahead and did it anyways. Because he cared enough about Draco not to lie to him. He bared himself to Draco, and Draco _hated_ that. Why wouldn't Harry stop to think about this? Draco could hurt him, he would eventually, in some way. He had. Draco didn't want to hurt him, he realized with stark clarity.

Pansy waited patiently for him to answer. She knew what he got like when he was deeply considering something, so she gave him the time and space. Meanwhile, she let her own thoughts drift too. This was a screwed up situation, and she could already taste ash in her mouth anticipating what kind of bearing this will have on both Draco and Potter too. A shiver went down her spine and she bit into her lip, stomach churning.

"I suppose? In a way?" Draco replied to her question, his voice growing noticeably quieter and more hesitant.

"Do you _care_ about him Draco?" She patiently repeated her question. She knew he was beating around the bush, giving vague, uncertain answers, and she was having none of it. Usually, she'd drop it, but this was too important of a subject to sweep under the rug, so she'd get the truth even if she had to wrench it out of Draco.

"It was just sex. All we did was have sex." He shifted on the bed, avoiding her question yet again.

"So?" She challenged.

"It takes _more_ than that to care about someone Pans." 

"You said he always had something to ask, and you always answered. He answered all of your questions too. You talked. That's the _more_, Draco ."

She could feel him pale besides her, though she couldn't see it. She kept her eyes trained on the ceiling. He shook his head.

"It was unimportant stuff, like favorite Quidditch teams or favorite animal, stupid things." He waved his hand.

"You also talked about the war. He told you what happened to him in the forest. You told him about the Mark. Those are important things, meaningful conversations." 

A strangled sob caught in Draco's throat as Pansy pointed that one out. _Merlin to Christ._

"I took his virginity Pansy. It was me, he let me, he wanted me to." Draco told her, choking up. That was another thing he could never understand. He'd always considered his virginity a special thing, and couldn't fathom why Harry would trust him enough to lose it to him. Pansy placed a hand over Draco's resting on the bed.

"Then he trusts you." She simply said. "Despite everything that happened between you two, he trusts you. That should tell you something Draco."

"It tells me he's incredibly stupid." Draco scowled, though his heart wasn't in it.

"Or incredibly brave." His friend challenged him again, and he felt something tear inside him.

"Stupid." He stubbornly murmured. Pansy only sighed softly, giving up on that one.

"What do _you_ want?" She asked, because it all boiled down to that. What Draco wanted out of this. He didn't know. He really didn't know. The sex was amazing, but so were the conversations they had after, maybe even more so. It felt special and easy and...safe. He cringed upon realizing this. _Safe._ He felt safe with Harry. Of all the fucking things. He grunted in discomfort and Pansy waited. He'd be lost without her, but he'd be damned if he'd ever admit that. He knew the dangers of being with Harry, both for himself and for Harry, which is partly why he insisted on keeping it purely physical, but then, at one point Draco couldn't pinpoint, it stopped being _just_ physical. Harry would call out his first name when he came, and Draco would make sure he was alright with anything they would do, especially if Harry had no clue what it was. Harry would hold him through the tougher conversations, and Draco would distract Harry from the bad memories of his relatives with kisses and caresses. Harry stood up for him in the middle of the Great Hall, then saved Draco's face by creating this entire wild lie. 

Who had he been kidding?

It hadn't been _just_ physical between them for _so_ long.

Harry had only realized it sooner.

It made senses they would be soulmates too, with how easy it all came to them. They didn't know at the time, but the bond was there every day and every night and it made it easier to trust and open up. Sped it up even, because they would always be naturally drawn to each other. It's just the way it worked. 

Draco's bottom lip trembled as he thought about all of this carefully, possibly for the first time. His heart suddenly felt very heavy, sinking through his chest. _Fucking shit what have I done?_

"Doesn't matter what I want anymore Pans. It's over." He sounded bitter even to his own ears.

"It doesn't have to be." She mused. "It's only over if you allow him to slip away from you."

"I basically told him to 'fuck off' Pansy." He pointed out, feeling like the greatest arse on Earth for snapping at Harry the way he did. He'd been scared is all, of feeling the way he did, and then when Harry said it, it made it all real and not this imaginary problem Draco had conjured up and that was terrifying, so Draco covered for it by blowing up on him. He didn't think there were words he could use to be forgiven, even if he did tried to say he was very _fucking_ sorry.

"There's this thing called 'apologizing'. Works wonders, might want to use it sometimes." Her voice was clipped, sarcasm dripping through and Draco had to chuckle sadly.

"I don't think anything I say could rectify this. I wouldn't forgive me after my reaction."

"You haven't tried. You're giving on this guy you love, and who loves you too--shut up, it's quite obvious we're talking more than just basic crushes--because you're scared." Pansy clipped again.

Draco sucked in a breath through his teeth, and swallowed.

"What would I say even?" 

"That you're sorry, first of all. Then, well, depends on how step 1 goes." She shrugged.

"Not helping." He groaned, pressing the ball of his palms into his eyes, willing away the beginnings of a headache.

"I don't know him like you do, so I can't account for his reactions can I Draco?" She shrugged again, sitting up finally. "You'll make yourself miserable, and by extension me, if you don't do anything, and I am not spending this year wallowing in your heartaches, so you better grow a pair and talk to him." She gave him a sardonic grin over her shoulder, lightening up the mood. He laughed, wrinkling his nose. Pansy sure could paint a picture.

"Alright." He conceded and sat up too, amusement draining out of him quickly. "I'll see if I can rope him into talking to me tomorrow. Thanks, Pans." 

She smiled in earnest, eyes glinting:

"_Someone_ has to hold your hand through your continuous fuck ups, and I have sacrificed myself to the goal out of the goodness of my noble heart, so yes, you better be grateful." 

Draco scoffed again, aiming for offended, though he looked more amused than anything else. 

~

But Draco never got the chance to speak to Harry tomorrow, because Harry hadn't showed up at all. Neither for the meals or any of his classes. Draco felt an odd little twist of worry upon realizing this, while Granger kept giving him strange, furtive glances every once in a while. Did she know anything? Draco couldn't very well ask her about Harry, but her glances were irritating him to no end.

It would be fine. Harry would be back tomorrow and Draco would talk to him. Right.

Except he wasn't back tomorrow.

He wasn't back for the rest of that week. 

Now, Draco was growing just the teensiest bit frantic. Granger's looks hadn't waned either, and he was slowly losing his grip on whatever pretenses he had to hold up, and stalking up to Granger and forcing her to tell him what the hell has happened to Harry was becoming more and more appealing.

Come Friday, and Draco would learn what happened to Harry. 

He sat directly behind Weasley and Granger in one of the classes, attempting to eavesdrop in case they mentioned Harry. Pathetic he knew, don't remind him. The things people do for...love.

To his delight and horror, Harry was the chosen topic of the day.

"How much did he drink Ron?" Granger asked.

"Three vials Mione. Three bloody vials." Ron shook his head, voice sick with worry.

"_Jesus Christ. _Why the hell did Harry drink three vials of dreamless sleep?" She muttered.

"I don't know! He said he'd been having dreams about something that made him happy once that he'd now lost. He muttered in his sleep too, something about blonde hair and love and Merlin knows what other crap."

"Do you think it has something to do with the war?"

"I reckon, yea. Harry lost a lot of things he loved in the war, we all did. Hell, even Malfoy paid a sore price." 

Weasley seemed unaware of Draco sitting behind them, and that last comment struck Draco for a moment.

"Yeah. Maybe its about someone who died then?" Granger offered.

"I think so too, but..three vials Hermione. He must have either really loved them, or had gotten really desperate."

"Have you taken him to the infirmary?" She asked, and Draco was doing his best not to topple over in his chair.

"Yeah, of course. No one could wake him up. He was breathing so slowly, almost like he was...dead. Scared the bollocks out of me. He didn't even flinch when Dean shook him. Pomfrey said we'll have to let him sleep it out, but that it's good he stay in the infirmary, for her to monitor whether the potion slows down his heartbeat too much again." 

"How hadn't we noticed anything before Ron? This is obviously something very big, and we just.." She shook her head at herself, feeling guilty.

"He seemed so happy though, didn't he? All smiles and jokes and laughter. He was always in some easy mood. Even slept better, you know? He used to have the nightmares every night, he'd wake up screaming, waking the whole dorm up, but then, I don't know, maybe a little over a month ago, the nightmares had stopped. He slept through a full night Mione. He did go on nightly walks _a lot_ more often than before, but I reckoned he'd need the space to think and clear his head, and anyways, when he came back he was so dopey and calm, and then he'd fall right asleep, and wake up in the morning bright and early." Ron explained everything that had been different about Harry. Hermione listened eagerly.

"That _does _sound like he found something to look forward to. It seems to have gone pretty deep too. Do you think Harry could have possibly been dating someone?" She asked.

Draco almost gave himself away by choking on his own spit quite loudly. Thankfully, he reigned it in.

"Huh. You know, you might have a point. Maybe he fell in love with some bloke and he dumped Harry recently. It would make sense for Harry to react like this. You know how he throws himself into everything, then whines about it later." Ron agreed.

"Yeah, that's what I'm thinking too. If Harry fell in love with some boy, and then he dreamt about him after the guy broke up with him, it makes sense Harry would make a split second decision and down three bloody vials of the potion just so he wouldn't have the dreams. Merlin, he can be so impulsive." She pursed her lips, wringing her hands in her lap. It was rare to hear her swear, but if she was really upset or worried, sometimes it would slip out.

"Yeah. Always goes in heart first. Falls fast, hard. It's ridiculous. Gets him into shit like this." Ron grumbled, but the concern on his face for his mate was obvious.

"I know. We'll visit him after class, yea? Ask how he's doing." Hermione sighed, and Ron wound an arm around her shoulders to comfort her.

Draco leaned back in his chair, his heart in his throat. His eyes were stinging and his legs felt like jelly. He didn't know how deeply this went. Though he didn't know how deep in he was himself until last night, so he couldn't say much. His entire chest ached with a longing he didn't think existed, and he must have made some kind of distressed noise because Granger and Weasley turned to him, Granger's inquisitive look from the days prior back on her face.

"Ron..?" She started slowly, not removing her eyes from Draco, who was pretty stunned at having the attention turned to him like this.

"Yea?" Ron asked, already turning away, disinterested.

"What is it that you said about blonde hair?" She asked, and Ron drew in a sudden sharp breath, spluttering.

~

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> i do so love cliffhangers, don't you? ;D


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